


For Science, You Monster

by MariaMediaOverThere



Series: Seungchuchu Week Vol. II [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Lee Seung-Gil does not squeal, M/M, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Portal 2 - Freeform, trying to start a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 01:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12378450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaMediaOverThere/pseuds/MariaMediaOverThere
Summary: SeungchuchuWeek 2: Day 1: What Do I Know? – Ga(y)mersStarting a relationship is hard.





	For Science, You Monster

 

“Okay,” Seung-Gil rolled his shoulders back, anticipation literally playing from his fingertips. “Push the button on the count of- PHICHIT!”

 

The Korean watches with absolute disbelief as a companion cube zoomed by his character’s peripheral and onto the acid moat below where he stood.

 

 

He looked over the top of his laptop to glare hard at his P-body partner, who was hiding giggles behind his hands. “I’m sorry! I didn’t-“ Phichit bows his head, grinning despite himself “You said ‘ _Push the button_ ’ and I didn’t know there was a part two.”

 

“I can’t believe I let you play Portal 2 with me.” Seung-Gil sneered. He feels a headache coming on.

 

“No, no, we got this!” Phichit extended his leg and nudged Seung-Gil’s bent knee with his foot, prompting him to get into position. “We had it there.”

“We had it 4 tries ago,” The Korean corrected, pulling his legs closer to himself to escape Phichit’s reach. “If only _someone_ would stay still.”

 

The Thai hums , thoughtfully tapping his pink-blushed cheeks, (Who wears makeup to just stay indoors?) “I wonder who that someone is…”

“Phichit.”

“Yeah, baby. Say my name like that.” Phichit croons sweetly, throwing his head back in a semblance of mock-pleasure.

 

Seung-Gil hisses at his boyfriend’s antics.

 

 

Stamping down the tension in his chest, Seung-Gil configures his little ATLAS character to return to step one. “You’re the one who said you wanted to play with me.”

 

“And I do!” Phichit sets his laptop down onto the comforter. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to playing platform games like these- I’m very bad.”

“Understatement.” His tan-skinned companion brushed the jab off, crawling forward to Seung-Gil’s end of the bed. Seung-Gil pulls his legs even closer, pushing his face closer to the monitor that’s sitting on his knees than what is safe for the eyes.

 

 

Phichit tucks his legs underneath him before Seung-Gil, looking like a kicked puppy. “Are you mad?”

 

“No.” Seung-Gil doesn’t look him in the eyes.

 

 

There’s a weight that presses against Seung-Gil’s shins, which he assumes is Phichit’s chest. His laptop lid is shut close by Phichit to reveal his glowing face behind it. He must have gone extra on the highlighter today, by the way the highs of his cheek catch what little sunlight is seeping through Seung-Gil’s standard neutral blinds.

 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing, you MOBA-playing normie.”

Phichit mock-gasps at that, leaning back and clutching the front of his shirt, floral but mutely-colored, “DOTA is my life!”

“I thought ice skating was your life.”

“Don’t forget hamsters!” Phichit adds, dropping his act and resuming his position braced against Seung-Gil’s legs.

 

 

Seung-Gil almost wonders aloud if Phichit is breaking his back over finding such comfort in his presence. Or maybe to Phichit, anywhere is a home to burrow in and fill with love.

 

“So which is it?” Seung-Gil retorts, almost missing the appropriate time for a rebuttal without making it awkward, or having it seem like he thought too hard on his response (2.08 seconds).

Yes, he’s been studying heavily on social interaction. It was the least he could do.

 

“Life is made up of more than just one thing.” Phichit replies flippantly, “You’re a big part of my life too.”

 

 

 

Seung-Gil’s hands are trembling when he reaches for a pillow to smother Phichit with. He just can’t handle it- not now, not ever. Whenever he has the displeasure of confronting his fans, they scream in an ‘annoyingly high pitch and seemingly swoon. He had always failed to comprehend that reaction. It was something like excitement but also giddiness but also trepidation, but also not really- that’s what his sister said. He dismissed it outright.

 

But right now, he presses the cushion against his boyfriend’s face because looking at it will make him want to squeal- **_and Lee Seung-Gil does not squeal._**

 

 

Phichit says something, voice muffled, and for a split second, he is filled with panic.

He pulls his arm back, but Phichit doesn’t seem outraged. Seung-Gil checks the flipside of his pillow to see, with bated breath, if he accidentally transferred his boyfriend’s makeup.

 

Thankfully, there’s only tiny specks of glitter and tint from Phichit’s lips, printed on the pillow’s cover.

 

 

In place of a rant, Phichit takes the pillow from Seung-Gil and examines the stain, and only remarks that “That’s gonna be hard to wash off.”

Seung-Gil exhales.

 

“S-Sorry.” With due hesitance, Seung-Gil reaches forward to brush Phichit’s stray hairs back into place. He doesn’t know much right now, but he knows that Phichit puts his physical disposition close to his heart.

 

 

 

God, starting a relationship is hard.

 

 

 

 

 

“Are you uncomfortable around me?” Phichit pushes his bottom lip out, but it’s nothing like the face he pulls when he’s trying to look cutely pitiable. It’s worry.

 

The words are trying to sort themselves behind his teeth, but they’re too fucking slow. Seung-Gil shakes his head in lieu. Bless Phichit’s patience.

“Is it… am I too forward?” Phichit lets up off the weight he’s pressing against Seung-Gil’s legs.

Seung-Gil readies himself to shake his head, but then stops and considers it.” Yes.”

 

He feels like smacking himself in the face.

 

“But that’s not- It’s fine.”

“Seung-Gil, we agreed that if you-“

“It’s not that.” Seung-Gil surges forward and holds Phichit’s wrists. He’s not quite ready to hold his hands. Not yet. So he attempts to banish the thoughts from Phichit’s head, “I appreciate the effort you put into having us spend time together as… a… couple…” He tried really hard not to swallow his tongue on that last bit.

 

Still, Phichit looks unconvinced, and his hands hang limply from where Seung-Gil is keeping them up.

 

 

 

Bidding adieu to his personal reservations, Seung-Gil sets his closed laptop aside and lets his legs open to invite Phichit to rest his head against Seung-Gil’s chest.

 

 

 

The Thai only needed the slightest of pulls on his arm until he readily let himself fall unto to boyfriend chest-to- chest. He’s warm in Seung-Gil’s arms.

It feels like years before Seung-Gil can remember how to translate Korean thoughts into English spoken word. “I’m sorry I’m bad at words.” He says to the top of Phichit’s hair. “I appreciate what you’re doing.”

 

“I know.” Phichit reaches for Seung-Gil’s arms and bids them to wrap around the small of his back.

 

 

Basking in some sort of mutual understanding, Seung-Gil feels that urge to scream pricking the skin of his arms- his arms that hold Phichit against his body. If the way Phichit is pressing his face harder against the front of Seung-Gil’s shirt, unafraid of makeup mishaps, he can probably hear the Korean’s erratic heartbeat.

 

 

Seung-Gil mulls over what to say and settles on, “I don’t want to play Portal with you anymore though.”

 


End file.
